


one of my best dreams come true or a nightmare

by glyphsbowtie



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, M/M, Minor Injuries, Serious Injuries, Wade Wilson Being an Asshole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-07-27 16:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16222493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glyphsbowtie/pseuds/glyphsbowtie
Summary: Fictober2018 prompt fills for Spideypool.





	1. Can You Feel This?

**Author's Note:**

> So I’ve been dreadful at writing recently. My life has been hectic and I’ve had some personal shit going down. i have also been working on stuff for big bangs etc so I apologise! Thought I’d try to get back into it with some drabble writing- I’m behind for Fictober but hey ho.
> 
> Day 1- "Can you feel this?"

“Can you feel this?”

Peter blinks back tears, staring down at the limp, fleshy sack that was once his arm. He feels a sick, painful surge of panic, and he knows he  _ should _ be able to feel Wade’s fingers on his arm, but he  _ can’t feel anything. _

“Oh, God, Wade, my arm-” he chokes out.

“Hey,” Wade mumbles, gently, reaching out with the hand which isn’t currently probing Peter’s shattered arm, and tipping Peter’s chin firmly up so that they are making eye contact. “It’s going to be fine, pal. I promise.”

But it’s hardly going to be alright, is it? Not even a little bit. If he can’t use his arm, how he can be Spider-Man? How can he swing from rooftops or beat on bad guys? Tears are falling freely down his cheeks now and he stares in horror at Wade.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he hears himself saying, and he wishes he could cram the words back in his mouth as Wade’s face darkens. “You wouldn’t understand what it’s like to be able to get hurt.”

“I  _ can  _ get hurt, you little asshole,” Wade says, and he surprises Peter by stroking his hand through Peter’s hair gently, the most tender touch they’ve ever shared. “We’ll get you fixed up. I promise.”

Peter wants to reply, but the pain hits him suddenly, overwhelmingly. It’s white hot agony, making the world blur and hot bile rise in his throat. He slumps forward, passing out in Wade’s arms.

* * *

When he wakes up, he is aware of the soft bed beneath him and the gentle beeping of the machines around him. He blinks, feeling the sort of relaxation that only strong medication can impose. The room is white and clean, and he knows he’s in Tony’s medical bay.

Wade is standing by the window, staring out. He’s not longer in his Deadpool suit, instead wearing jeans and a hoodie. Peter hasn’t seen him when he’s not clad in red and black, and there’s something incredibly soft about the way his stomach feels when he looks at the merc’s broad back.

He remembers the events leading up to getting here, and glances down at his left arm. He curls his fingers experimentally; they feel a little numb, but they move easily. Tony has fixed it. Of course.

“Hey,” Wade says, suddenly. He’s turned to look at Peter, smiling softly. “How’s the arm, Spider-Man?”

Peter doesn’t feel like Spider-Man in his soft white pyjamas. He wonders if his hair is sticking up around his face. “Call me Peter. And it’s fine, thanks.”

“Peter,” Wade repeats, as though testing out how it feels in his mouth. He smiles.

“I’m sorry I was a dick,” Peter says, cringing slightly as he remembers the panic he felt. “Thank you for getting me back here.”

Wade walks over to the bed. “Sure thing, pal.”

“Why did you stay with me?” Peter asks. The words come out before he can really think about them.

Wade blinks. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, then shrugs. He reaches out and trails his fingers very, very softly against the palm of Peter’s numb hand. Goosebumps spring up on Peter’s skin at the contact, and he feels his heart begin to beat more quickly as he looks into Wade’s blue eyes.

“Can you feel this?” Wade asks softly.

Peter nods.

Wade bends down and presses his lips to Peter’s, tenderly and sweetly.


	2. People like you have no imagination

“People like you have no imagination,” Wade sighs, watching as Peter peers through his thick goggles and stirs some powder into the liquid on the bunsen burner. “Why can’t we just make a bomb, Petey?”

Peter glares at him. “I don’t even know why you’re  _ here,  _ Wade. I told you I needed to come work on my web fluid-”

“I am always  _ more than happy _ to work on your web fluid, baby boy,” Wade smirks.

Peter looks adorable, a tiny man with messy hair in a lab coat, scowling at Wade. “If you don’t get out of this lab right this minute, Wilson-”

“I just think we should have some fun, Parker!”

Peter pulls a dark face and points his hand at Wade. Wade has seen Spider-Man in action enough times to know that this is a bad sign, but he can’t quite match the fearsome image of Spidey in action with the disgruntled scientist before him. That’s how he ends up webbed to the wall.

“You’re wearing your web-shooters under that shirt, baby?” Wade asks, wriggling experimentally.

Peter stalks towards him. He pulls the goggles off and tosses them to the ground. “Shall we see how much  _ imagination _ I have, Wade?” he asks darkly.

Wade swallows.


	3. How Can I Trust You?

Peter blinks, opening his eyes slowly, painfully. The shard through his shoulder is aching, stinging. He tries to sit up, pushing himself to his knees and groaning. His fingers brush his shoulder tentatively, and the hot blood is wet against his gloves.

“Spidey! You’re awake!”

Deadpool has saved him. The merc is standing close by, a pile of bodies at his feet and a pistol in his hand. He is looking over at Peter.

“Stay away from me,” Peter manages to say, trying and failing to push himself to his feet.

“What? Webs, that hurts my feelings,” Deadpool says, ignoring him completely and taking a step towards him.

“You’re a killer,” Peter snarls. “If you touch me, I’m going to hurt you.”

“Are you really?” Deadpool asks mildly. He sounds amused. “No offense, baby boy, but you can’t even stand up. Let me help you.”

Peter wants to shout at Deadpool to leave him alone, but really, what choice does he have? His shoulder is bleeding profusely and he needs to get to Tony as soon as possible. So he bites his lip as the merc sticks his enormous hands around Peter’s waist to lift him gently to his feet. “How can I trust you?” he asks, finally.

Deadpool hesitates. His hands are still on Peter’s waist, but he reaches up with one and tugs off his mask. His face is… pitted. Scarring and lumps are clustered across the surface of his skin. He’s completely bald, even lacking eyebrows, and his bright blue eyes are distractingly intense in the strange expanse of his face. “You probably can’t trust me, baby boy, but I’ll get you to safety. My name is Wade.”

Peter shakily pulls his own mask off. “Peter Parker. Please don’t make me web you to a wall.”


End file.
